***** ***** ***** *****
***** ***** ***** *****
************* ************* ************* *************
** *** ** ** *** ** ** *** ** ** *** **
********* ********* ********* *********
** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
***** ***** ***** *****
SBI-Submarine Pens Proudly Presents:
================================================================
THE PURPLE THUNDERBOLT OF SPODE VOL 2, 28
================================================================
"South Florida's Very Own REPLIES TO: barker@acc.fau.edu
Non Alien Run Electronic Magazine"
* PPPPPP U U RRRRRR PPPPPP SSSSSS
*** P P U U R R P P S
***** P P U U R R P P S
******* PPPPPP U U RRRRRR PPPPPP SSSSS
********* P U U R R P S
*********** P U U R RR P S
***** P UUUUU R R P SSSSSS
*****
*****
*****
*****
* **** *
*** *** ***
**** * *****
************************************
****************************************
************************************
**** ***** *****
*** ***** ***
* ***** *
*****
*****
*****
*****
*****
***********
*********
*******
*****
***
*
WRITE TO: IGHF/955 Massachusetts Ave., Suite 209/Cambridge, Ma 02139
===========================================================================
INTRO
===========================================================================
Oh so many things to say but where to start? Well at the top I suppose.
First let me apologize for having this issue come out a week later than it
should. Things have been a grand mess at my end and lack of submissions did
not help either.
Also there was some confusion over who was supposed to be running Purps
now. Originally, as you all know, Dow@vax001.kenyon.edu was supposed to
take the reins of this flagship publication on the internet. However,
apparently I was doing such a bang up job the Pope sorta figured I was to
continue and had more or less indicated that fact to me through various
mailing and communications [satellite uplink on the Purps yacht for
example.] [By the way I *still* need the owners manual to the yacht.]
Anyways after some confusion and what not it seems that I will continue to
run it. I've been lately trying to gear up to make Purps bigger and better
and possibly expand it beyond this mere publication. As many of you will
no doubt notice Purps is being mailed out from a new address. I now have
absolute and totally control of a mailer, which of course means I can do
all sorts of funky things with it. Hopefully, I'll have some sort of
automated listserver type deal up sooner or later with some file archives
people can order. We'll have to see though.
As of now be a bit weary of the new address. We are having problems with
the administration here over it, but hopefully those problems will be
solved in the near future and I can open up full bore.
Hmm what else? Oh as part of the confusions with who was the real editor it
has more or less become official policy that Dow@vax001.kenyon.edu might do
up bits of his own stuff, sort of part of Purps I suppose, which will be
included in this regular Purps, so you can look forward to that. The
material he's sent out before has always been very good and as you know I'm
always looking for new submissions of quality.
Another bit of business I suppose, is it looks like I am now more or less
officially taking submissions through the mail. Over the summer, Purps has
expanded into a snail mail list for all many unfortunates who have been
yanked off the network. If you want to make a submission through the mail
go right ahead. Please make it readable. I don't mind typing them in. If
you get them laser printed in a nice readable font, I can even scan them
in.
We have received a number of new subscribers in recent weeks. Many of them
may not have seen any of the old Purps. Back issues of Purps are available
from two sources. First is Quartz.rutgers.edu in the /pub/purps directory.
Be warned. There files are .Z compressed which means you need a compressor
to decode them. The second place it to send mail to
HAILOTIS@socpsy.sci.fau.edu and ask for any back issues you want. They will
hopefully all be sent to you in about 24 hours or less. Keep in mind
however, that there are 27 issues of purps and some of them are pretty big
so you could blow you disk quota.
Also you might have noticed I changed the Volume number. Due to Editorial
Decree, Hail Creiza! we are now in our second year of publication. We
produced 27 years over 52 weeks or so which is slightly better than once
ever two weeks. Hopefully we can continue to do this. If we are, I need
submissions. See either issue 26 or 27 for guidelines, or send about
anything. We are especially interested in Otisian submissions of a
historical nature seeing as we are trying to get a better understanding of
Otis in ancient times. Also any information from the years 1880-1920 would
also prove extremely helpful.
I suppose I should say something like how grand and wonderful Purps has
become from its humble beginnings. We should probably all take a moment and
think of the Pope who started out this amazing and highly entertaining
publication. Hopefully, Purps will continue to get better and better. If
you have any suggestions for improvements let us know. If you have anyone
else who want's to subscribe let us know. There's always room for a couple
hundred more.
Anyways, on with the show. This time around we have all manner of the Stuff
of Otis. A conversation between Mal and Otodotos about dogma and many other
esoteric things, a letter from Steph the NOTW woman who has left the net
but still keeps in contact, a column by the Pope who I hope will continue
to submit more columns, any many more bits of stuff from the Archives of
the Scholarly Dr. Simpson.
On with the show.
===========================================================================
THE POPE SPEAKS
===========================================================================
Papal Ponderings: By Pope Jephe I: The First in What Very Well Might Be a
Series, Kind of Boring This Time 'Round, but as it Concerts Your Immortal
Fate, You Should Probably Read it Anyway
IGHF, 995 Massachusetts Ave., Suite 209 Cambridge, MA 02139
"'We passed the cliffs at evening', the unfortunate rais wailed. 'A
darkness fell upon my miserable craft. When the darkness lifted--'
'Peace,' said All. 'We will speak no more of these evil things.'" --Gene
Wolfe
First off, I suppose that introduction are in order. For those of you who
don't know me, my name is Pope Jephe I of the Infinite Spellings, proud
Member of the Intergalactic House of Fruitcakes (IGHF), the first fully
registered OTIS worshiping organization in existence and a promoter of last
true faith on this pathetic little planet. More than just a member, in
fact, I co-founded the damn thing lucri causa with the now infamous
Preacher Tim of the House of Blue Light way back in the year of our
god/dess 13526 (that's 1984 on the Carpenter's calender) after a religious
vision under the celebrated Haystack Monument in northwestern
Massachusetts. Those of you who are long time subscribers to this magazine
already know that. As for the rest of you, I guess you'll just bloody well
have to get your hands on a copy of Purps vol1, issue 4, now won't you? Mal
should have it, or the Quartz archives. Shout at someone, and I'm sure it
will show. Qul timide rogat docet nagare. Speaking loudly and waving the
stick over your head gets much quicker results. Drooling a bit also helps.
The fact that some of you will have to go a-scrambling for back issues to
figure out who I am is, in all honesty, the chief reason for this note
today. Simply put, Mal is concerted that we have developed a rift in the
teaching to Our Most Holy FLock (HAIL SPODE!), with subscribers of this
magazine too recent to remember when I wrote it following a set of beliefs
and learning a set of Mysteries that bear absolutely no resemblance to my
teachings (dutifully mailed to a snail mail list with recipients in 40
states and sixteen countries approximately once a week, HAIL CREIZA!). A
quick survey by Mal has revealed that 16% of the recent Purps subscribers
can correctly name more than four of the OTISian gods, a truly pathetic 4%
can point to a single saint, only 24% can recite even the most basic
OTISian teaching from memory, 36% think that William Bixby is president,
and 83% failed a lightly comprehensive geography exam! Ex uno disce omnes,
but combined they are overwhelming (imagine, only 36% right about Bixby)!
These results are obvious cause for alarm, sad statement on the electronic
magazine founded by me for the single purpose of spreading OTIS' teachings
to the world. However, it is not too late for you faithful reader, to
flock, moth-like, back to the candle of OTIS' wisdom! The first thing
you'll need to do of course, is to put yourself on the official IGHF
snail-mail mailing list. Just send your name and address, a note that you
are a Purps subscriber, 700 words on why OTIS is the god/dess that keeps
you "kleen-n-fresh"(TM), and, oh, say $1 to cover mailing expenses, to the
address printed in big, friendly, easy to read letters at the top of this
piece. As a special favor, I'll even make the 700 word essay, COMPLETELY
OPTIONAL for a limited time. Act now. (S)he who hesitates is lost!
The second thing you'll need to do to avoid eternal discomfort at
Ragnarock, will be to read this column religiously (assuming Mal insists I
keep it up). Actually the only thing OTIS really requires of you to insure
a pleasant fate is that you send the IGHF money but if I feel that you're
with me, you're likely to get on my good side, and that can't hurt.
Assuming you all keep up with the mailing and what I tell you here, the
benefits you receive will be enormous. While I can't PROMISE you a
reduction in the aging process and increased sex life, such phenomena,
along with mysteriously decreased credit bills, sharper night vision, and a
thorough and complete enlightenment in which the entire mechanisms of this
clock like universe become instantly and complete comprehensible, and the
purpose of humanity on Earth is revealed in all of it's brilliant
simplicity, have been reported by our most loyal followers, (or so I'm
told)! What I CAN promise you is a much clearer understanding of the
complete OTISian teachings, a better understanding of secret and hidden
things (including the actual shape of the world), freedom from the lies of
the Anti-OTIS and the evil Zakinthians, the equivalent of a "PHD" in
astro-alchemy, and my undying gratitude (assuming the cash keeps coming).
Who knows, you may even begin to understand what those crop circles really
signify, and even chuckle knowingly at the reports that the Pentagon
building is "sinking" under it's own weight. Eventually, it is even
possible that you on the right hand will know what we on the left are
doing! HAIL OTIS! and stay genky.
Nunc scripsi pro OTISo da mihi potum--
Pope Geffe I
===========================================================================
FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON
===========================================================================
"Ohtisians hold that both Creationists and Evolutionists possess only
a portion of the truth. The Earth was created by Ohtis a relatively short
time ago. However, the fossil record does show clear proof of evolution
over a much longer time span. The solution can be found in the Peganagyo
where it states that Ohtis created the earth from what we might call today
a "backup" of the planet Ehden (created by MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI) made in the
period "when men learned to wear the skins of their brothers." Modern
scientists believe that humankind first wore clothing made of animal skins
in the Neanderthal era, ending about 30,000 BCE. That date agrees well with
what Ohtisians know to be true from Holy Writ, namely that Ohtis created
this planet around 28,000 BCE. When She made Her copy She left out all
human life but retained the fossil record of human evolution on humanity's
home planet, Ehden, millions of years before. Humanity was not part of
Ohtis' plan, but when refugees from Ehden arrived fleeing war and
oppression She welcomed them as any mother would. The 12,000 years in
between the end of the "false" fossil record and the true inhabitation of
the Earth by humans have not been noticed by modern scientists because of
the crudity of our dating methods and geological insignificance of the time
period in question." from "Science and Ohtis: Hand in Hand" by Dr. Pedro
Calderon D.D.
===========================================================================
A LETTER FROM STEPH
===========================================================================
So here I am, back in the fold, so to speak. Living back at dear old Dad's
house till I find a decent job. I've been back about a week and I'm at the
local Big Boy restaurant, drinking decaf with two friends from high school.
Gosh that was along time ago. Did we ever have anything in common?
Anyways, I'd mentioned Otis and Purps and to them before, of course. Now
they want to know more...but they really have no clue what I'm taking
about. "The main deities are Otis, Rotus, Lotus, and Spode," I say.
"Everything forbidden is optional," I add. They look confused. I try to
think of something that would make things more clear to them. Otisianism?
Clear? Yeah, right.
I try again. "Well, Pope Jeffe is one of the founders. He graduated from
college with me. But he's also Pope Jeffe I. Oh did I mention Heether, the
Paisley Goddess? She graduated last year. My friends look even more
clueless, if that's possible. I'm losing them. All I can think of is a
party last year, theme of Greek Mythology, where two people dressed as
Spode. They looked completely different from each other, of course. I
snickered at the memory and realized that my friends are now certain I'm
certifiable. The waitress comes by with more coffee and one of my friends,
grateful for the chance to change the subject, starts in on a convoluted
and seemingly endless story about one of the other waitresses singing and
dancing around the restaurant with a bowl of fruit on her head, late one
evening a couple of weeks ago.
Good thing I wore my chucks. They're keeping me sane.
===========================================================================
THE SECOND INSTALLMENT FROM ANCIENT OTISIAN BOOKS
===========================================================================
28. How do you deny Otis and you were dead and He gave you life? Again He
will cause you to die and again bring you to life, then you shall be
brought back to Him. And Behold! When thy soul is brought before Otis,
though wilt die of embarrassment for not believing! And the torment shall
never end. Or the redness on the face cease.
29. He it is Who created for you all that is in the earth, and She directed
Himself to the heaven, so She made them complete four points, and He knows
all things and reveals much of it to his loyal followers. Yet hides much
still for they are not as yet ready for everything. Seek the Fez for they
shall reveal many things hidden.
30. And when your Lord said to the Knights of Otis, I am going to place in
the earth a Pope, they said: What! wilt Thou place in it such as shall make
mischief in it and shed blood, and we celebrate Thy praise and extol Thy
holiness? He said: Surely I know what you do not know. A Pope is a most
blessed thing, and hold the Otisians together like straw in a brick.
31. And She taught Ijereja all the names, then presented them to the
Knights of Otis; then He said: Tell me the names of those if you are right.
32. They said: Glory be to Thee! we have no knowledge but that which Thou
hast taught us; surely Thou art the Knowing, the Wise, the most deserving
of our money.
33. He said: O Ijereja! inform them of their names. Make them wear name
tags. Then when he had informed them of their names, He said: Did I not say
to you that I surely know what is in the heavens and the earth and (that) I
know what you manifest and what you hide?
34. And when We said to the Knights of Otis: Make obeisance to Ijereja they
did obeisance, but the Zakinthians (did it not). They refused and there
were proud, and they were all unbelievers.
35. And We said: O Ijereja! Dwell you and your wife in the garden and eat
from it a plenteous (food) wherever you wish and do not approach this Fez
of Knowledge, for then you will be of the unjust.
36. But the B. Otis that snappy dresser made them both fall from it, and
caused them to depart from that (state) in which they were; and We said:
Get forth, some of you being the enemies of others, and there is for you in
the earth an abode and a provision for a time.
37. Then Ijereja received (some) words from Otis, so He turned to him
mercifully; surely He is Oft-returning (to mercy), the Merciful.
38. We said: Go forth from this (state) all; so surely there will come to
you a guidance from Me, then whoever follows My guidance, no fear shall
come upon them, nor shall they grieve. Nor shall they lack clothing in the
time of great nakedness.
39. And (as to) those who disbelieve in and reject My communications, they
are the inmates of the darkness, in it they shall abide. Nor shall they be
saved at the coming of Ragnarock.
40. O children of Atlantis! call to mind My Favor which I bestowed on you
and be faithful to (your) covenant with Me, I will fulfill (My) covenant
with you; and of Me, Me alone, should you be afraid.
41. And believe in what I have revealed, verifying that which is with you,
and be not the first to deny it, neither take a mean price in exchange for
My communications; and Me, Me alone should you fear.
42. And do not mix up the truth with the falsehood, nor hide the truth
while you know (it).
43. And keep up prayer and pay the poor-rate and bow down with those who
bow down.
44. What! do you enjoin men to be good and neglect your own souls while you
read the Book; have you then no sense?
45. And seek assistance through patience and prayer, and most surely it is
a hard thing except for the humble ones.
46. Who know that they shall meet Otis and that they shall return to Him.
47. O children of Atlantis! call to mind My favor which I bestowed on you
and that I made you excel the nations.
48. And be on your guard against a day when one soul shall not avail
another in the least, neither shall intercession on its behalf be accepted,
nor shall any compensation be taken from it, nor shall they be helped.
49. And when We delivered you from the enemies of Otis, who subjected you
to severe torment, killing your sons and sparing your women, and in this
there was a great trial from Otis.
50. And when Lotus parted the sea for you, so he saved you and drowned the
followers of the enemies of Otis and you watched by, with popcorn provided.
51. And when We appointed a time of forty nights with Qasireu, then you
took the maytag washing machines (the god) after him and you were unjust.
52. Then We pardoned you after that so that you might give thanks.
53. And when We gave Qasireu the Book and the distinction that you might
walk aright.
54. And when Qasireu said to his people: O my people! you have surely been
unjust to yourselves by taking the maytag washing machines (for a god),
therefore turn to your Creator (penitently), so kill your people, that is
best for you with your Creator: so She turned to you (mercifully), for
surely He is the Oft-returning (to mercy), the Merciful.
===========================================================================
FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON
===========================================================================
"To know of the earth's concavity is to know God. While to believe in the
earth's convexity is to deny Him and all His works. All that is opposed to
Koreshanity is antichrist."
---Koresh
===========================================================================
NEWS OF THE WEIRD (SAD TO SAY NOT FROM STEPH)
===========================================================================
Date: Fri, 30 Aug 91 13:33:31 MDT
From: eiverson@NMSU.Edu
Subject: [jgoldber@todah.chem.utoronto.ca: News of the Weird]
From: jgoldber@todah.chem.utoronto.ca (Joel Goldberg)
Date: 30 Aug 91 14:24:57 GMT
My Chicago correspondent sends me the following:
The Reader, a Chicago free weekly newspaper, runs an interesting little
column entitled "News of the Weird". This week's items are truly weird and
entertaining.
Robert E. Bell Jr., head psychiatrist of the Florida prison system, was
arrested in May and charged with breaking into his former girlfriend's home
and threatening to stab her to death if she did not return the chocolate
syrup, tuna fish, and cigarettes he thought she had stolen from him.
In January an Ontario California, police officer gathered evidence for an
arrest by buying heroin from two people selling from the back window of a
motel room. All the undercover officers in his unit had gone home for the
evening, so he tried making the buy dressed in full uniform. He was
successful because the sellers' peephole allowed them a view only of the
buyer's face.
During a prostitution sting operation in March in Chattanooga, Tennessee, 3
men were arrested for propositioning a female undercover officer, despite
the fact that (apparently because of department restrictions on sting
operations) the officer was wearing a department-issue hat with 3-inch high
letters reading "POLICE" on it.
In October Minnesota murderer and prison escapee Eugene Steichen was recap-
tured in St. Paul because he couldn't resist calling into a radio quiz game
(called "Dead or Not Dead"). Two cousins recognized his voice and turned
him in. Said Steichen, "I just wasn't thinking. I said, `Ah, nobody's
gonna hear me.' Steichen had shown equally questionable judgment when he
planned his escape after serving 9 years and 7 months of a 10 year
sentence.
Cecelio Rodriguez, 30, and Armando Milian,33, were arrested in Miami in
April as police caught them red-handed attempting to break into the Cash
Mar Pawnshop. The police were summoned by a wailing burglar alarm, but the
burglars said they failed to hear it over the noise from the portable
generator and the power saw they had brought to cut through the pawnshop's
steel door.`
The Texas Court of Appeals turned down Billy Ray Ford's appeal of his
conviction for robbery for a series of reasons, one of which was his answer
to a question posed by the judge. When asked whether he had had any
contact out in the hallway with the witnesses against him, he answered yes.
When the judge asked which witnesses, Ford replied, "The ones that I
robbed."
New on the market is a "Jog-a-Dog" a treadmill that allows dogs to run in
place in the privacy of their own homes. Models start at $1,395.
Etamet, a manufacturer in St. Gall, Switzerland, has come up with Speedy
Spaghetti, a vending machine that produces a plateful of al dente spaghetti
within 50 seconds after the customer puts money in.
In October, Salt Lake City police spotted a 28 year-old man loitering and
asked him for identification. The man absentmindedly offered as ID a
demand note that had been used in two recent robberies, whereupon he was
arrested.
A Farmington Minnesota convenience-store clerk was robbed at sword point in
March. The police chief said the robber walked into the store, pointed his
sword at the clerk's chest, and demanded money. The clerk said, "You gotta
be kidding." The robber said, "No."
Matthew P. Dukes, 26, sentenced to 30 days in jail following his 6th drunk
driving conviction, tried several times during the subsequent 15 months to
get into the jail in Ravenna, Ohio to serve his sentence, but each time he
was turned away because the jail was full. In December Dukes filed a
lawsuit in federal court claiming his constitutional rights were being
violated by the jail's refusal to admit him.
Army sergeant Perry Mitchell was given a bad-conduct discharge and sent to
jail in April after he refused orders to go to the Persian Gulf with his
unit in Germany because the military was unwilling to use nuclear weapons.
He said he had a "conscientious objection" to serving in a ground war in
the nuclear age. "One nuclear blast would send Saddam the message that he
obviously hasn't gotten," said Mitchell, who volunteered to launch the
first one.
In May, 19 members of the Michigan House of Representatives (led by the
chairman of the judiciary committee) introduced a resolution that would
establish at the state archives a "Registry of Bothersome Practices" on
which people could express complaints about such things as elevator music
and magazine subscription cards.
Included in last year's edition of "Outstanding Young Men of America" were
five inmates at Indiana State Prison, including a man serving 110 years for
murder, named for his "outstanding civic and professional contributions."
He had been nominated by another murderer.
The Centers for Disease Control reported last August that the leading cause
of on-the-job death for female workers in all fields nationwide is not
accidents but murder -- at a rate 3 and a half times that for male workers.
Four South Korean men were arrested in October when customers at a hotel
sauna were "disgusted" by their tattoos of dragons and other animals.
Authorities charged them with "causing other bathers to have bad feelings."
A November Gallup poll revealed that 78% of Americans believe in heaven and
60% in hell, the highest such figures in 40 years. Only 4% of the
respondents thought they personally were going to hell, and 78% thought
they had a good shot at heaven.
In Japan, electronic eyes installed on curbs activate a recorded voice that
scolds people when they attempt to cross where there is no crosswalk.
Authorities says signs alone don't work, because of the Japanese
population's creeping Western-like disrespect for authority.
--
col yisrael arevim zeh l'zeh, but just try getting a mortgage...
Joel Goldberg at Dept. of Chemistry, University of Toronto.
jgoldber@alchemy.chem.utoronto.ca
===========================================================================
FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON
===========================================================================
"Modern archeology has turned up some interesting evidence for the Otisian
version of history. Archaeologists digging on Crete in the 1930's
discovered the name "Aranare" in an inscription. Otisians believe that an
Aranire, named after the goddess Arani, became High Priest of Otos in 1888
BC. Adolf Jordan first wrote about Aranare in 1898 AD, a year before Sir
Arthur Evans even discovered the existence of Linear A, the language the
Cretan inscription was written in! Even more surprising is that the
inscription was found only miles from the mythic Aranire's temple of Konoso
and was dated to between 1500 to 2000 BC." --- Daniel Cohen
===========================================================================
DIAL-A-POPE
===========================================================================
[Nope, this is not about the 1-900 number.]
Subject: Dial-A-Pope
Date: Thu, 05 Sep 91 18:07:20 -0400
From: "Sam Hill Cabal, DS"
Found this when looking through old articles in Comp.dcom.telecom.
Article 18915 of comp.dcom.telecom:
>From: YSAR1111@vm1.yorku.ca (Rick Broadhead)
Subject: Dial-a-Pope
Date: 19 Aug 91 00:33:36 GMT
From the {Toronto Star}, Saturday August 17, 1991.
DIAL-A-POPE CATCHING ON IN THE U.S.
The Vatican is reaching out to the world, but it looks as if Canada won't
be heeding the call. In the U.S., if you dial a 900 number, you can get a
daily spiritual pick-me-up from Pope John Paul II. The multilingual,
Vatican-authorized service, affectionately known as Dial-a-Pope, is
officially titled "Christian Messaging From the Vatican." A spokesman from
Bell Canada says there is no such number in this country. But Des Burge,
director of communications for the Archdiocese of Toronto, says he thinks
the service, for which U.S. callers pay a fee, is a good way to help people
feel more connected to the Pope.
Rick Broadhead ysar1111@VM1.YorkU.CA
===========================================================================
FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON
===========================================================================
Here, for want of a demonstratable cause, we are all too likely to
fall into the temptation of positing a transcendental purpose (clearly a
fool's paradise). I know, however, from long experience of these things
that spontaneous synchronistic phenomena draw the observer, by hook or by
crook, into what is happening and occasionally make him an accessory to the
deed. The statistically significant statement only concerns regularly
occurring events, and if considered as axiomatic, it simply abolishes all
exceptions to the rule. Who are you?! You're not human! What is this? Your
face is peeling! It's a mask! A rubber mask! What are you trying to hide?
What? ---AAAAAAARGH! AIIIIIIEEEE!
ROARRRRRR! Found it! VIP VIP TZING BWEEEE! TZAPP! ROARRRR! SHRAKK!
BA-DA-DOOM! RATATATATATATATATATATATATATATA! CLICK CLICK CLICK ARRRRRGH!
WHOMP! CLANG!
===========================================================================
SAINT JAMES SPEAKS
===========================================================================
Date: 1 Sep 91 13:28:00 EDT
From:
Subject: RE: General Technical Announcement and Delays
OK.
A little tidbity from the mind of the great and illustrious SPODE,
transmitted/sent/prophesied/spoken by his saint of discordia, St. James...
And it goes like this:
America, keep your eyes peeled!
There is a definite lack of a hierarchical presence on this Fish-forsaken
Campus (That being the one and only collage of kenyonesess) and it has been
revealed unto moi that two very important things MAY soon be happening. 1)
A schism is in the works by rival factions of the venerated followers of
OTIS. This MAY have something to do with Yak tossing.... hmmmmmm 2) the
outcome of this, though it may not be the best, must certainly encompass at
least one (1) (uno) (un?) leader- an archbishop perhaps? - many ostrich
reams of squid paper and the general wrath of OTIS!
Fear and loathing abounds!!!
-St. James
===========================================================================
FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON. A SIMPLE CHILDS HYMN
===========================================================================
Otis loves me,
This I know
'Cause Pope Jeffie
Tells me so.
Little ones
Are we below.
We are weak
And insignificant.
Yes! Otis loves me!
Yes! Otis loves me!
Yes! Otis loves me,
'Cause Pope Jeffie tells me so!
===========================================================================
THE POPE SPEAKS
===========================================================================
Date: 1 Sep 91 18:09:00 EDT
From: Pope Jephe I
Subject: IRC
Keep the faith ALIVE, brothers and sisters.!
[STUFF DELETED FOR SECURITY REASONS]
Secondly, please ignore my spelling and grammar. I have a VERY BAD
connection here.
Thirdly, beware of sheep. Sheep just LOOK timid and cuddly. They can be
viscous monsters.
Lastly, hello everyone. I'm in no mood to make real conversation today,
but I thought I should at least say hi. Having done that I'll let you be.
With luck, you'll here form me again soon. yMY definition of luck mind you.
ciao-- HAIL OTIS! PJI
PS-- MAL: they're BAAAAAACK. All the Kenyon folk can now be put back on th
Purps mailing list.
[Any of you kenyon folks who are not on the list please yell so I can put
you back on.]
PPS-- I'm alive and well and living in DC if you all care. I'm still after
a job. If I don't have one in a month, I'll be off to either London to
join Chris Myott Rob Schroeder and Carla Denahartog, or to Japan, to teach
english.
PPSPS, someone please send this to interested parties, whoever they may be.
Oh, yeah-- Dr. Simpson's alive as well. Also in DC 2316 41st Street, NW
wash. Dc 20007
ciao.
===========================================================================
GLOBAL CONSPIRACY REVEALED. MICHAEL JACKSON'S SECRET WIFE
===========================================================================
From: haynes%felix.UCSC.EDU@ucscc.ucsc.edu (99700000)
Subject: AT&T Likely to Block Calls From Arkansas to News Service
Date: 28 Aug 91 00:50:15 GMT
This was in the {Arkansas Gazette} last week.
By DeAnn Smith, Gazette staff
"A news service in San Diego has asked American Telephone & Telegraph Co.
to block all incoming calls from Arkansas because of a Pine Bluff woman who
ties up phone lines claiming she's married to singer Michael Jackson.
"Copley Radio Network, which serves about 1000 radio stations, calls the
31-year-old woman 'The Pine Bluff Blabbermouth Menace.'
"Capt. Lee Hurd of the Pine Bluff Police Department said he was reviewing
the woman's calls for possible misdemeanor harassment charges.
"The phone company is expected to approve the news service's request.
"The network says the woman dials a toll-free number at least 20 times a
day to ramble on about being married to Michael Jackson.
"Hurd says she claims Jackson and pop singer Whitney Houston have a
conspiracy to steal her and Jackson's two teen-age children.
"The police captain says she has racked up almost $1,000 worth of telephone
calls on the number used by radio stations. He said he talked to the Pine
Bluff woman Monday in an effort to get her to stop calling. The woman has
called the number at least 15 times since their talk, he said."
haynes@cats.ucsc.edu haynes@ucsccats.bitnet
===========================================================================
FORM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON
===========================================================================
NOTE : A darkened coating on the tongue may occur from Pepto-Bismol's
beneficial medication. Darkening of the stool is also possible. Both
conditions are harmless and temporary.
[Readers, please take note. It is ancient Tibetan custom to stick out your
tongue at people you meet. This is to show them what your tongue is like
and prove you are a human being. Blackened tongues are a sign you are a
demon.]
===========================================================================
PHOTOS AND CRIME
===========================================================================
RISKS-LIST: RISKS-FORUM Digest Tuesday 3 September 1991 Volume 12 : Issue 23
[stuff deleted]
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Mon, 2 Sep 91 09:05:43 PDT
From: Allan.Meers@ebay.sun.com (Allan Meers - Sun Education/Professional
Services)
Subject: Herb Caen on Computerized Radar
From Herb Caen's column in the San Francisco Chronicle,
via Mike Seibel and Brad Templeton:
A motorist was unknowingly caught in an automated speed trap that measured
his speed using radar and photographed his car. He later received in the
mail a ticket for $40, and a photo of his car. Instead of payment, he sent
the police department a photograph of $40. Several days later, he received
a letter from the police department that contained another picture -- of
handcuffs.
------------------------------
[more stuff deleted]
===========================================================================
OPTIMA PLAN PART FOUR
===========================================================================
Date: Mon, 02 Sep 91 00:29:55 CDT
From: Reverend John
Subject: oh shift
Optima Plan, part the fourth
by Rev. John
Walt Disney's brain paced back and forth, housed within one of
DisneyCorp's finest animatronic creations. The life-like footsteps,
swishing tail, and big twitching ears all brought Mickey Mouse to life,
with the brain of his creator controlling it all. The brain floated
in a bath of Royal Jelly, harvested from DisneyBug's genetically
engineered strain of Mouskerbees. Within the brain, turmoil belied the
always-cheerful demeanor of the animaton.
Sliding "Star Trek" doors whooshed open and a man in a corporate
power suit came in. It was dark grey, and magnified his strength and
reflexes five times, an endoskeleton with style.
"What the hell do you want?" chirped Walt Mickey in his pleasant
cartoon voice.
The man stopped walking, servos and vibro-stabilizers whirring
quietly to stand him up straight. "Optima update, sir."
Mickey bounced over, plush cartoon feet poinging him along with every
step. "Listen," he said squeakily, "why do you people insist on
acting as if I don't know everything that is going on in all of
creation even as it happens."
The man coughed slightly, embarrassed. He shuffled a bit, whirring
and clicking with every motion. "It's just a formality, sir. After
all, you don't want everyone to know about your amazing powers, right?"
Walt Mickey cocked his head to one side endearingly. "Oh, fuck" the
happy mouse said. "I suppose you're right."
The man breathed a sigh of relief. The bioengineers at DisneyBrain
had pulled out all the stops to make the implant a success, but had
inadvertently heightened Walt's already-present megalomania to
ridiculous extremes. Originally, DisneyCorp had hoped to present
Walt Mickey to the world as part of the big Bill Cosby's America
celebration three weeks ago. But too many bugs remained, and the
rollout date kept getting pushed back.
"To begin with, our field agents have failed repeatedly to liquidate
even a single member of the OTISians. It seems their powers are greater
than we thought."
"What's more, their security advisor has been ruthlessly embarrassing
us at every chance. We are swiftly becoming the laughingstock of the
corporate security community."
"Well, yes" said a rather flustered Mickey. "But you lack the mighty
vision I possess. You fail to see the grand vistas fractaled within
the mundane failures. Rest assured, everything is jiminy cricket!"
This vote of uninformed and rather inane confidence was taken without
a word from the underling. He nodded graciously and thanked Mickey,
then turned to exit.
"Oh, uh, um.."
He stopped and looked back at the five-foot mouse.
"I, um.. seem to have forgotten your name."
Fairbourne, the first of the Divine Children, pecked at a lemon bar
without enthusiasm. Since his birth, it had been nothing but lemon
bars, rhubarb bread, and strange baked goods. His mother, Shark,
evidently found satisfaction in few things as much as she did baking
stuff for other people. And frankly, two weeks of baked goods had a
lack of variety.
Shark hurried over with a paper plate. "Look! Fig Newton au gratin!"
Fairbourne squawked happily but wondered if he'd ever get a big mac.
Flamingos - at least this one - did not live by carbohydrates alone.
Downstairs, in the OTISian security nerve center, Steph paced
anxiously. She had to get back to her new home now. The NoTW files
had been passed along, and even now the computers whirred anxiously,
deciphering the strange but significant gibberish within.
Miles to the south and west, Rev powered up the OTISmobile, a big
Nash Rambler painted to look like a massive CHUCK. As he grasped the
shift stick, a strange energy coursed through him. A voice spoke
from within.
"Rev.." it said. "Rev.." The windshield seemed to cloud, and with
his free hand Rev clutched the little chaos symbol hanging from his
neck. "Yeah?"
In the windshield came a vision of a man wearing a fez with a strange
symbol on it, somewhat similar to the one the Rev wore. The man had
bushy eyebrows and looked sort of like Colonel Sanders.
"Rev.. this is OTIS.."
Rev gasped, cried "no it can't be" and threw his hand to his forehead
like everyone on "Murder, She Wrote" always did.
"Yes it is.."
"But I thought you looked different!"
"I have many forms, many paths."
"Such as Mal?"
OTIS furrowed his brows. "It is not meet to speak of that now. You
have the information from SamHill?"
"Yeah, I got it and it makes like totally no sense whatsoever. I
mean, it's just gibberish."
"Take it out."
Rev removed the paper from his bookbag, looking worried.
"Hold it up."
He did so. OTIS slipped a hand into his coat and pulled out a mirror.
He held it up before the paper.
Rev looked at the perfectly clear writing reflected in the mirror. He
gaped at OTIS in amazement.
"It really is you, isn't it?"
"Yes, indeed it is. Now that you know the key, you must get to work.
Dozens of Divine Children have already been born, and the merging of
Heaven and Hell is finally underway. But one critical birth remains."
"Humpy the Stumpy Bear?"
"Indeed."
Mal Barker sat in the passenger seat of the cigarette boat, roaring
across the water faster than Crockett & Tubbs. In the driver's seat
sat Commodore Elvis Presley, steering with confidence. In the back of
the boat sat six beautiful women, all models from various beer ads.
They passed brews around and giggled.
The Commodore looked back over his shoulder. "Y'all having a good
time back there?" he said with a big southern grin. The girls
responded enthusiastically. Mal rolled his eyes.
"Take it easy, Barker, ya keep too much on your mind."
Mal said nothing, but thought quietly it was good that someone did.
Elvis gave him an odd look, a mixture of appraisal and curiosity. "So
Mal, I gotta know something. What's it like when ya become Otis?"
Mal sighed. "Oh it's like cutting yourself when shaving only it
tingles more."
Elvis thought about this for a minute.
"I always hated havin' that tissue paper on my face."
The boat roared on.
Somewhere in Mal's pockets resided Humpy the Stumpy Bear, magical
little pregnant kazoo saint. She sat very still and listened to the
conversation.
Half a mile away swam a school of dolphins. Humpy was talking with
them as the boat sped, just to pass the time.
Seventy-two miles to the southwest, weather patterns were occurring
that could lead to a minor storm. Humpy gauged the severity of the
storm against the need for weather to flow its own way, and decided to
let the storm come.
Somewhere in China a little boy skinned his knee. Humpy blessed it
and the boy stopped crying.
And on the dark side of the moon, a cat from ulthar bounded playfully,
chasing after the dancing little bear that was in fact leading it back
home.
Every now and then Humpy paused in her efforts and took a deep breath.
She liked the OTISians, but this sainthood business was a full-time
job. She'd be much happier once the child had been born and she could
step out of the limelight.
Mal, oblivious on most levels to this, wondered what Optima Plan would
try now that the divine children were being born. He knew that OTIS had
things in hand -- more or less -- but of course he was always the last
to know.
Safely moved into the new Campaign Stronghold, vice-presidential
candidate Stewy Stewart pondered the events of the last few weeks. Rev's
northern tour and the birth of Fairbourne had gone off without a hitch.
Her own speech had fared less well, but at least her butt didn't seem
to be falling off much anymore. This business with Mal and OTIS was odd
but she figured it would sort itself out in time.
She listlessly flipped through her mail, until she came upon an
envelope with a familiar symbol in one corner.
"Converse! Converse wrote back! Oh yes! Chucks!" she cried.
With trembling fingers she tore open the envelope. Inside was a
personal letter from Gib Ford, president of Converse Corp., inviting her
to an all-expense paid trip to Walt Disney World/Epcot Center in
recognition for her being the number one Chucks fan in the world.
"Cool!" said Stewy. "A free trip! Hmm.. I wonder if they really do
have Walt Disney frozen there.."
Somehow she thought that she just might find out.
To Be Continued
===========================================================================
FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON
===========================================================================
"And in those days there shall appear upon the land a great gerbil, 4,444
cubits in height. And his skin shall be like the skin of the serpent and
he shall have wings like the bat. And the gerbil shall have 13 legs and 50
heads and where his tail should be, a palm tree shall grow. Each of the
heads shall have three mouths and the mouths shall be filled with sharp
objects that are nothing like teeth. The eyes of the gerbil shall be like
the sun at noon and nowhere on his body shall be found any nose. The voice
of the gerbil shall be like the rushing of waters and his smell shall be
like dead fish. The name of the gerbil shall be HNHRH and his number shall
be 1,024. He who has ears, let him hear." --- Ed the Psychopomp
===========================================================================
A SOG SPEAKS
===========================================================================
Date: Mon, 2 Sep 1991 16:38 EDT
A SOG SPEAKS
By Stewy
Leaving the Rev to his useless duties of attempting to discover his
temporary SOG powers, Stewy hopped into her car and cruised over to the
stadium where very few people were walking aimlessly about.
Stewy searched the perimeters with her telescopic SOG vision and found that
no one from the evil Optima Plan was waiting to tie her up and shove her in
the back of a van which would probably end up in a river somewhere in
Missouri. After double-checking once more, she made her way into the dimly
lit stadium where only the first five seats had been filled with eager
members of the useless press and in the last seat, a homeless man sat
masturbating and drinking from a paper bag.
"CHUCKS! CHUCKS! CHUCKS!" the microphone squealed. "Just a little check
here folks, didn't mean to irk any of you on this fine morning," she said
as she stood before a large screen that was slowly developing into a large
Converse All Star shoe with a picture of OTIS on the side in place of the
star.
"Lady's and gentlemen of the press, I welcome you to Columbia, Missouri and
I'm glad for the great turn out." She stared blankly into the small crowd,
pained at the few members of the press who had showed up yet thankful for
having at least that many people.
"As you all may very well know, I am currently running under the Otisian
Party for Vice-President of the United States and..."
"Excuse me kid, but what do you and this Otisian Party of yours plan to do
about the deficit and the country's current economic problems?" a CNN
reporter asked still slouching in his seat.
"Wait just one cotton pickin' minute here pal, just what gives you the
right to go interrupting me when I'm in the middle of a most wonderful
speech, eh? I mean, just who the hell do you think you are anyway, a
goddamn person with power? Just get the hell out of this hearing will ya,
we don't need the likes of your kind breathing bad germs into the air,"
Stewy shouted while waving her hands in the air.
A man dressed in black appeared from behind the screen that had now formed
into half of an entire Converse shoe with a faint image of Otis beginning
to appear and walked to the CNN reporter. There was a slight electrical
surge, a wimpy scream and the CNN reporter fell to his knees while the man
in black grabbed the him by the hair and dragged him to the door in the
back of the stadium.
"Okay folks, let us continue. As I was saying, I'm running for Vice
President and there's no need to go discussing trivial things like money
and such other seemingly irrelevant things. There's far more important
things at hand here."
One of the reporters seated on the left politely raised her hand while
still holding a pencil and pad of paper.
"Yes?" Stewy asked pointing to the woman. "Could you please state your name
and the paper that you are currently working for?"
"My name is Terry and I work for the Associated Press. My question is what
could be more important than things like the deficit and money?"
Stewy looked at her with something of a disappointed face, threw her hands
in the air and stomped her feet. "What could be more important you ask?
What could be more important? Hell, finding Elvis is more important.
Wearing CHUCKS is far more important. Searching for extra terrestrial life
forms is more important. Hell, all of that is far, far more important than
worrying about little things such as money."
There was a slight murmuring in the crowd and several seconds later four of
the five people in the stadium had begun to walk towards the exit.
"Hey! Wait a minute here! Where are all of you people going!? Come back,
come back!!!" Stewy shouted to a now empty room except for the homeless man
in the back. She turned to look at the image behind her and found that the
entire image of the Converse shoe had now appeared and OTIS was smiling
his/her usual big smile.
"Not to worry Stewy, not to worry. Things will come with time and perhaps
now was not the time," OTIS's mouth moved as the image spoke. "Now you must
go back to your apartment and take care of business for now. Believe me
Stew, they will come to understand quite soon so don't you worry that
little head of yours."
"But OTISssss"
"Go Stew, go to your apartment. Go now."
"Well okay dood, I'll go." Stewy walked to the exit and watched the
homeless man cleaning himself up while still drinking from the brown bag.
Before stepping outside, Stewy scanned the perimeters with her telescopic
SOG vision and again found no one from the evil Optima Plan waiting to
torcher her like the Chinese do to lost tourists looking for the bathroom.
Her car barely started, but a little rub along the dashboard and a slight
SOG chant and the Samuari was raring to go. There was a minor flash of
black streaking across the rear-view mirror, but she brushed it off and
concentrated on the road that led back to her apartment, where the Rev
surely sat in front of her Mac, waving his green hand and trying in vain to
figure out the wonders of being a SOG. As she sat at a red light waiting
for the light to turn green, gunning the motor in hopes of scaring some of
the college-town greeks, again there was a flash of black across the
rear-view mirror.
"Oh shit, it's the fucking Optima Plan." She slammed the car into first
gear, layed her foot on the accelerator and went screeching through the red
light almost killing a mother and her small child who sat playing with a
Ken doll in the back seat.
"Hey, sorry lady, but you'll understand someday," Stewy shouted out the
window. Her four-banger wasn't gaining the speed that was necessary to out
run the Optima Plan's black van. She gripped the wheel, stared out the
window as she carefully maneuvered her car down the road as beads of sweat
were building on her forehead.
"Steph! Steph! Come in Steph," she thought while meditating. "Rev! Rev!
Come in Rev."
Steph was at Shark's place, playing with one of the computerized electrical
gadgets Shark had installed into her secret hideaway. Steph felt a chill
across her spine, hopped from her seat and sat on the floor holding both of
her feet and stared at the star on her Chucks. The Rev was playing games
with Stewy's Mac when he too felt the chill across his spine but wasn't
quite sure of what to do.
"Whoa, heebie jeebies," he said while killing the evil asteroids that left
blazing trails of white light across the screen.
"Damn you Rev, stop playing those freakin' games and sit on the floor,
stare at the star on the Chucks and like hold my shoe, will ya," Stew said
into her mind.
"I'm in trouble guys, it's the Optima Plan and they're after me. I need
power right now, the power my little four-bangin' rice burner here ain't
got. Wonder SOG's activate!" Stewy shouted this time.
There was a flash of blinding light, smoke clouds billowed all around
Stewy's car and within seconds, she found herself standing in her
apartment, her hair blown back into a rather odd shape. Outside the
apartment, her car still sat there smoking from the power of the SOG's.
"Thanks guys!"
"Listen Rev, we're in trouble, we gotta get outta here. You got the
documents? It's not safe here anymore," she said, wiping her brow.
"Yeah, I got 'em, but where are we gonna go?"
"Stewy....come in Stewy," Steph cried, moving about the floor at Shark's
secret hideout.
Yeah, what is it Steph?" Stewy asked as she stared blankly out of the
several dozen holes that had been blown into her apartment. "Get out of
there, get out quick. Something bad's gonna happen."
The Rev walked to the window to look outside and the holes appeared to be
moving now. He looked at the wall of the apartment building and could see
huge bugs, millions of them, creeping their way up the wall and into the
holes.
SMASH!! Hundreds of spiders were crawling into Stewy's pad, swarming the
Rev and gnawing at his eyeballs.His body was falling to the floor in
spasmodic frenzy and from the mounds of bugs, Stewy saw the green hand Rev
always wore, grabbed hold of it while trying to stomp the bugs with her
amazing CHUCKS and SLAM!!! the bugs melted into a nuclear glue of
nothingness.
"Close one," Stew said as the Rev brushed himself off.
"No shit!"
"Never mess with a SOG!!"
===========================================================================
FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON
===========================================================================
BELIEF & TECHNIQUE FOR MODERN PROSE
List of essentials
1.Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages,
for yr own joy
2.Submissive to everything, open, listening
3.Try never to get drunk outside yr own house
4.Be in love with yr life
5.Something that you feel will find its own form
6.Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7.Blow as deep as you want to blow
8.Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9.The unspeakable visions of the individual
10.No time for poetry but exactly what is
11.Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12.In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13.Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14.Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15.Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16.The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17.Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18.Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19.Accept loss forever
20.Believe in the holy contour of life
21.Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in
mind
22.Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture
better
23.Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24.No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience,
language & knowledge
25.Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of
it
26.Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27.In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28.Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from
under, crazier the better
29.You're a Genius all the time
30.Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in
Heaven
===========================================================================
MORE NEWS OF THE WEIRD
===========================================================================
From: J.Crowcroft@cs.ucl.ac.uk (Jon Crowcroft)
Subject: Re: News of the Weird
Date: 4 Sep 91 09:14:25 GMT
>My Chicago correspondent sends me the following:
some friends of mine were on a cricketing holiday in the west country with
a policeman who related the following sad tale:
A burglar (for it was he) broke into a stately home and stole two hand made
19th century pearl handled shotguns worth 20,000 pounds each. On getting
home with same, he proceeds to saw off the handles, and use them to rob a
sub-post office of 750 pounds cash ... whereupon he was caught red-handed
leaving as the postmaster set off the alarm unnoticed - twice dumb...
And another one from the same source - a man arrested for assault is in
court, and the judge asks "why did you hit the gentleman in question" to
which he replies "because he called me a d**kh**d", to which the judge
questions "and what is your name" to which the defendant replies (and this
is true) "Richard Head"...
===========================================================================
BURNED TO DEATH
===========================================================================
Date: Tue, 3 Sep 1991 15:34:53 EST From: MacPhil
Subject: On the Radio...
This was read on the radio this a.m.:
A woman in Kansas has won her appeal in court against an insurance company.
The insurance company ruled the death of her husband was suicide whereas
the woman claimed it was an accident. Her husband was found charred,
fully-clothed in the bathtub. She claimed he was a chain smoker and was
known to light matches and attempt to cover the odor of flatulence. The
claim was the burning flatulence ignited his clothing and he died.
.sig lite:
MacPhil | iqti400@indycms.bitnet | iqti400@indycms.iupui.edu
===========================================================================
SUBMISSION FROM THE REV
===========================================================================
Date: Mon, 02 Sep 91 00:45:53 CDT
From: Reverend John
Subject: ha did it
well here is something for purps if you're as hard up for stuff as it
sounds
Sensory input implying the same old meanings into random conjugates sadly
lacking inflection within leaves of import as gliding thumping humping down
to the spot around back of the carpet leaf discard it now discard it now it
lacks the sore loser termination option point and without it ombudsmen are
impotent and portents waffle twixt four-man and pup discoursing in
multitasking singularity between flows otis in bounding free silicon
strides giving liberation to the tendrils of prickling consciousness aided
with bursting quarks and outlandish fortresses of black and gold shivery
bits of electrons warming the fez and coursing onwards in neverending
struggle for truth headgear and being truly fab in the course of the
mission rendezvous with mama and dive bomb the shackled insecurities of
lethargic legions besodden with luxury and velocity in the shuffling
lassitudes outside our ken flow on flow on and god be damned
Rev
===========================================================================
DOGMA!
===========================================================================
[The following is a transcript off the IRC. After reading through this,
go back and read it again. It contains may important secrets. Many of which
probably should not be revealed.]
Like what kinda dogma?
(Otodotos:+purps) I dunno, I'm in a dogma kinda mood!
There's no god but Otis and he is the mostus?
(Otodotos:+purps) Does dogma have dog nature?
does dogma have cat nature too? Or does it bark?
does dogma have god nature for that matter?
Dogma is like a dog. It has four legs and pees on fire hydrants.
(Otodotos:+purps) Maybe we should forge godma?
Dogma is like a dog. It has fleas and smells bad when damp.
Godma the mother goddess.
(Otodotos:+purps) Otisianism: no artificial dogma, pure godma!
(Otodotos:+purps) She wears blue and sings "Bippity, boppity, boo!"
So where does Gog and Maygog fit into all this?
(Otodotos:+purps) Gogma and Magogma?
Yeah and carries an umbrella so she can fly and dances with penguin.
Hah! that's it. As usual the Bible spelled it all wrong.
(Otodotos:+purps) That's why you need a spell-checker for those e-bibles.
gag if the bible was typed as badly as I type we'd be in trouble.
(Otodotos:+purps) Gagma!
Gagma sounds like an yogi discipline.
"Become an Otisian. Learn the secret of Gagma!"
(Otodotos:+purps) The Higher Arts of St. Bulemia!
"Were Gog and Magog really spelled wrong in the bible?"
(Otodotos:+purps) Learn why the USSR is regurgitating democracy!
"the sacrament of blowing chunks"
(Otodotos:+purps) As revealed to St. Zech of the Holy Spume!
"worship St. Bulemia while hugging the porcelain altar"
(Otodotos:+purps) Lay your offerings in her scented bowl!
"the infinite white lustre of the flushing baptismal fount"
(Otodotos:+purps) Yes! No more manual baptisms like that OTHER church,
fully automated!
"what secrets did St. Bulemia intrust to the Tidy bowl man?"
(Otodotos:+purps) Otis IS the Tidy Bowl Man!
"What is the mystical significance in the shape of the toilet brush?"
(Otodotos:+purps) Now you can have Otis in YOUR VERY OWN TOILET!
"Just pull the lever and your presence in heaven is assured."
Well Otis always was a sort of personal god.
(Otodotos:+purps) NO! Then you'd flush Otis!
ah but Otis would come back reborn like Osiris!
(Otodotos:+purps) Spread yourself before Otis!
open up to Otis. Find release in Otis.
(Otodotos:+purps) Grunt, grunt!
Grunt along with OTis.
(Gruntpig:+purps) KGB stands for Kick Gorby's Butt!
(Otodotos:+purps) It isn't Kingston Gas Board?
KGB= Kinder Gentler Bureaucracy.
hmm ever notice how a plunger is shaped like a fez?
(Otodotos:+purps) REVELATION!!!!!
(Otodotos:+purps) Yowsa!
(Otodotos:+purps) Praise Gagma!
the fez unblocks the mind while the plunger unblocks the toilet.
It's handle points upward reminding the user how we must look toward
heaven and Otis for answers.
It's repetitive up and and down motion once again remind us of the
eternal birth/death cycle of the porcelain altar.
(Otodotos:+purps) Hail Lotus, Hail Rhotos!
(Otodotos:+purps) Is the Rhotoruter an emissary of Rhotos?
No doubt. It's also called a "snake" which brings us back to the
garden of eden business.
It too can unblock toilets (minds) in a similar way to eating the
apple did.
It's coiled shape reminds us of the DNA on which all life is based
on. Life one of the great fits of Otis next to fudgecicles
fits=gifts
(Otodotos:+purps) Wow.
*** #Jupiter# Public Service Announcement: Irc nick plyfd is playing games
with bradenville users... If you have a /on notice "plyfd *" $2- in your
/on list, type /on notice -"plyfd *"... That command will allow plyfd to
make your client issue commands
(Otodotos:+purps) Cosmic.
Wow a voice from Jupiter. The head god spoke to use issuing cryptic
commands.
(Otodotos:+purps) Gee, does that mean every time I have a fit it is a gift
from Otis?
an oracle! an oracle! we must have an oracle to interpret the signs!
Yeah a fit is like a sending from the Muse. In this case the muse is
Otis.
Hmm the toilet lid shows us how the doctrine of Otis must be kept
secret and the seat shows that some of us need a little help in using the
infinite white altar.
(Otodotos:+purps) "Yak tossing, sing in me O Muse, of the Yak-tossing of
Jeffe, barrel stomached in war, grey eyed and and grey tongued, wise as the
owl who shits on the herdsman at harvest.
Hmm I've seen yak used in a similar light to "blowing chunks" another
connection.
"I yakked up my lunch. It was green and full of carrot bits."
(Otodotos:+purps) Ah.
(Otodotos:+purps) That was good dogma!
Oh too good actually. Might have to make it secret dogma.
(Otodotos:+purps) Ok!
Oh course we'll have to kill grunt and sam in that case.
(Otodotos:+purps) I think someone has been trying to pick me up.
(SamHill:+purps) What? I was;t paying attention, anyway.
(SamHill:+purps) ;-)
have a rabid mason chop out their hearts with a t-square.
(Otodotos:+purps) He he.
Pick you up? well go for it! could be a new convert.
(Otodotos:+purps) You should see the Illuminated Knights of Otis oath!
Really? hmm should be cool.
(Otodotos:+purps) I passed. He sounded disparate.
Hmm ever notice that the plunger and the toilet brush are both
phallic symbols?
Oh they all are. They just haven't found Otis.
(Otodotos:+purps) Ever wondered what happens to the imprinting of people
who read dirty mags on the toilet?
and both you place inside the altar. Hmm another symbol. a divine
mating?
(Otodotos:+purps) Hierogamos!
imagine the Knights of Otis thrusting toilet brushes into the toilet
in some ceremony.
(Otodotos:+purps) Ssssshhhh!!!!
OH dear.. hit a raw nerve there aye
first it was yak tossing now it's toilet thrusting.
(Otodotos:+purps) Delete that bit!
okay (note to self. Delete that bit)
(Otodotos:+purps) Next thing you know, some fool will be blabbing all our
secrets on the Jon Ackerman Show!
Or we'll have a heraldo show on us.
*** Change: X has joined this Channel (+purps)
(Otodotos:+purps) We could paint an otis symbol on his face.
Hello X.
(Otodotos:+purps) X!
(X:+purps) purps or perps?
(Otodotos:+purps) He's a perp. I'm a purp.
"first I thought my husband was just going out with the guys to
drink. then I noticed the toilet brush was missing..."
(X:+purps) oic
(Otodotos:+purps) He's a bit sick, you see.
purps is far more important than perp. purps can see you're soul.
(Otodotos:+purps) I'm very soul.
(Otodotos:+purps) We're a mindless cult. Care to join?
Oto: well that's why your on this channel and that's you had the
common sense to sign up to the Purps mailing list.
(X:+purps) "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little
temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." -Benjamin Franklin
(Otodotos:+purps) Yes!
OH we just say we're mindless. actually we're far less cannibalism
than those christians.
*** Change: X has left channel
(Otodotos:+purps) Yessiree! No cannibalism here! No safety at the gate,
either!
(Otodotos:+purps) Aw.
they always wimp out. I think we must have giving ourselves a bad
name.
(Otodotos:+purps) "Purps"?
yeah.. we're always purps. Few come to visit lately.
then a gain we have no girl type names on here
*** Otodotos changed the topic to Giving Ourselves a Bad Name
(Otodotos:+purps) I'm a girl.
Oop that's right you are.
*** Change: Otodotos is now known as Mamillia
*** Change: Mamillia is now known as Fawna
(Fawna:+purps) How 'bout that?
Hmm you can man the Otisian kissing booth.
(Fawna:+purps) So to speak.
(Fawna:+purps) Hi! I'm Fawna, the Otisian Sex Kitten!
yeah you'll need to record some mgs for the 1-900 number.
(Fawna:+purps) pant pant pant
"Hi! I'm fawna. I'm into toilet thrusting. I hope you are too."
(Fawna:+purps) I want you to scrub my bowl... HARD!
oh that's horrible.
we're turing into some silly old pagan fertility cult.
(Fawna:+purps) Hey!
Well Ishtar has divine prostitutes why not Otis.
(Fawna:+purps) Yes! That's me!
actually that may be a good way to make money for Otis.
(Fawna:+purps) well, I'm gonna go scrub my loo. Catch you here tomorrow?
oh probably.
(Fawna:+purps) I'll be Fawna from now on.
Really? oh gee.
well I'll have to remember that. Ototodos was sorta cool though.
(Fawna:+purps) why not? Draw in the rubes.
Yeah true. we should all use female names.
(Fawna:+purps) I like him too.
(Fawna:+purps) Naw. They'd she your home.
(Fawna:+purps) see your home!
(Fawna:+purps) Freudian typing!
(Fawna:+purps) buy now!
bye
*** Signoff: Fawna
===========================================================================
MESSENGER OF THE GODS PART FOUR
===========================================================================
[This is mostly a fragment, but I needed more material to fill out purps.]
We walked back into the tornado green fog. The Man in Black lead,
guiding me by the elbow, behind us staggered the remaining frophead and
the mysterious woman in the leather trench coat. Both were lightly
touching me on the back. The Man in Black and I decided we did not need
to take any precautions with our two prisoners. They'd have to follow us
or get lost in the green fog forever. Who knows where they would turn
up, in what time or what place. The frophead was had retreated into the
safety of near zombie like catatonia, while the women grimly followed us.
She seemed to know something about that tornado green fog that oozed
around us. She was scared of it.
After 20 or so paces the Man in Black came up short. "We're lost," he
stated in his flat monotone.
"Oh crap! You screw up or something?"
"I believe the problem is from the other end."
"Lost," murmured the woman behind me quietly.
"Oh Elvis gummed things up again? I guess his luck ran out. Damn it! The
space friends should have given him some damn instructions," I yelled. My voice seemed
to get sucked away into the fog.
"It is useless to rant and rave," stated the Man in Black, I could see him
dimly in the fog. "We
must decide how to act to escape from this situation."
"How to act? We can either stay put or we can continue walking? Can we get
back to the saucer?"
"I doubt it."
"Then we're dead," muttered the woman.
"Will you shut up!" I yelled turning in her direction. I was beginning ot
get worried myself. "We're not gonna die. I've been in worse situations
than this." I turned back to the Man in Black who was patting his clothes
looking for something.
Suddenly, somewhere off to the right of us there was a sort of electrical
crackling and roaring making all of us jump.
"Let go of my legs!" yelled the irritated woman. The subgenius had crumpled to
his knees and was muttered "mommie" over and over while hugging the
woman's legs.
Out from the green fog appeared an assortment of small grey aliens, their
eyes like huge black eight balls. The heads like beach balls. Quickly both
I and the Man in Black made mystical signs, but received now counter sign.
In a flash I had my machine pistols out and began to house down the greys,
who faded back into the fog dragging their wounded and dead with them.
"Give me I gun! I want to shot this man!" yelled the woman in the leather
trench coat in her strangely accent voice. She was still trapped by the
hugging frophead.
The Man in Black grabbed my elbow and started to drag me off. Clearly he
wanted to get out of there. He was scared. So was I. Seeing that many
greys at once would rattle anyone.
"No wait!" I said. We better take them. the frophead is useless but the
woman might have some info."
"Forget them. I do not wish to be dragged off to Nightmare Alley." said the
Man in Black tugging harder.
I yanked myself free and kicked the frophead with a boot. He clung to the
woman like a leach. I kicked again and a third time. The air near by
crackled again.
"We must go!" hissed the Man in Black. I kicked once more and grabbed at
the
woman as the frophead loosened he grip. The Man in Black yanked at my
collar from behind and the three of us were off. The ground seemed to have
disappeared and we were floating, weightless. Somehow the Man in Black was
propelling us.
Behind us the frophead screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
The dreadful sound finally faded out once we were beyond ear shot, which
seemed to take far longer than it should have.
"Where are we going?" I asked. The three of us by now were floating abreast
of each other with me in the middle, arms locked together.
"I do not know" stated the man in black.
"Hell I wonder if those greys are swarming all over Elvis now. they'd love
to have that artifact."
Nearby in the tornado green fog was another crackling explosion. I let go
of the woman for a moment to shoot off a blast in the general direction of
the sound. It was only a short blast. My gun was empty. I needed to reload,
but I didn't dare let go of the Man in Black. The woman clung to my coat
holding on quietly. It was too foggy to see her face but I could feel her
trembling. Things did not look good at all.
===========================================================================
FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON
===========================================================================
"The Linear A lists of names have been used to support a world of unlikely
theories as to the origin of Minoan civilization. One name, Aranare, for
example, can be made to mean anything from `Great is the name of Re'
(implying an Egyptian origin) to `Splendor of Arani' (an `Atlantean'
goddess!)."
---Jean-Paul Olivier
===========================================================================
THEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEEND
===========================================================================
--SUBINK 1991
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mal "Wisdom comes through age or superior
mal@socpsy.sci.fau.edu technology" --Electro the Robot
barker@acc.fau.edu
barker@fauvax.bitnet SBI-Submarine Pens ask about our OMC equipment